Martin Shkreli, Turing Pharmaceuticals CEO and all-around trash man extraordinaire, is having an amazing week. Not only did he manage to go from nobody to Nobody in a matter of hours upon news of his 5,500 percent price increase of the toxoplasmosis-fighting pill Daraprim, he then managed to amazingly double down on whatever ethos inspired that decision by really flexing his douchebaggery in clarification-free interviews, before eventually agreeing to lower the prices because, well, the internet.
As previously reported, he also has a supposed history of chronic harassment of varying degrees. Not only did he hassle an ex-employee and his family for supposedly lifted funds (during the holidays, no less), he also unabashedly creeped out his ex-girlfriend to the tune of ten thousand ridiculously insulting dollars:
That’s right, kids. Freshman year of college I dated Martin Shkreli: unrepentant capitalist, quoter of Eminem lyrics, embodiment of douchebaggery. The most reviled man in America during this New-York-minute news cycle, which opportunistic politicians have played to their advantage. Martin and I dated long-distance when I was 18 and he was 19. He was working as a junior analyst at Jim Cramer’s Cramer Berkowitz, around the corner from parents’ Midtown apartment in the tenuous post-911 landscape, and attending Baruch College sporadically. His favorite bands were Thursday and Taking Back Sunday, his favorite word austere. We met on the bus home from a Green Day/Blink-182/Saves The Day show at Jones Beach the summer before I frolicked off to hippie dippy liberal arts college. Charming right? A teenage dream. Except it soon became obvious that Martin was a pathological liar, would pretend to cheat on me and brag about it to raise his value in my eyes, so I’d always feel like I was hanging on by a thread, could be replaced, would vie for his approval and forgiveness. Except it backfired, made me think he was pathetic, not desirable.
Charming, yes. However, the real crux of Shkreli's admission, recently posted via her own website In Defense of Getting Off, is his post-breakup assertion of cunnilingus lobbying:
I moved on, like a reasonably well-adjusted emerging adult human. Except when facebook became a thing, in November 2004, Martin began contacting me. First friendly, then increasingly inappropriate and desperate. Unwanted. In April 2008, a full 5-years after we had broken up, he sent me a facebook message alleging, “95% of the time i get off i’m thinking about you.” “ick,” I responded. And it didn’t end there and then.
Katie then shared a series of screenshots revealing, among other things, that Shkreli offered her a dicey $10,000 to let him perform unreciprocated oral sex on her because he knew she had "nothing better to do" but serve the whims of a spoiled little rich boy:
Yeah. Seems like the young gentleman we all so readily assumed him to be.
